At The Crossroads
by Alara Rogers
Summary: Poetic feel but not a poem . Are two people destined to repeat their mistakes, or can they walk a different path this time?


At The Crossroads   
  
The wind and the rain have spoken to me. I call, and ask of them   
the news, and they whisper to me. Like a mantra underlying all   
my thoughts, the patter of the rain, the whistling of the wind,   
and the whisper within them, telling me their news, again and   
again.   
  
You will leave me.   
  
Perhaps I was a fool to think it could be otherwise. For I have   
stood at this crossroads before, have seen a man turn from me   
and run away for fear I would turn first, flinch first, run   
away. He ran rather than let me run, rather than hear what I   
would say, rather than hear that I might stay.   
  
I have stood and watched a man turn from me before, and so I   
know what you will do, what you will choose.   
  
You will leave me.   
  
For you have stood at this crossroads before, have watched a   
woman turn and run. Kneedeep in blood with the blood on your   
hands, you called to your love to help you, save you, pull you   
free. And she cried in fear of you, and ran down the path, and   
all your turns to try to find her led you further down the path   
of blood. And so you fear a woman running, and so you will run   
first. You told me so a lifetime ago, when both of us had other   
loves. You did not use those words, but I know you, and I know   
what you will choose.   
  
You will leave me.   
  
You will turn down the path of blood, the path where you stand,   
and run from me.   
  
***   
  
The wind and the rain bring smells to me, the smell of blood and   
ozone. They bring sounds to me, the screams of the dead and the   
damned. And I know what you have done.   
  
For you have stood at that crossroads before, ahead of you the   
shining path of light and the darkened path of blood. And you   
have walked the path of blood, waded in it so deep it soaked you   
to the skin, coated you and clung to you and made you a suit of   
armor, untouchable behind iron and blood. It charged you,   
magnetized you, a polar pull that calls you back to the path   
like a spinning compass. Whenever you turn, whenever you try to   
walk the path of light, you lose your way in the blinding glow   
and then the pull has you, the iron in the blood calls you, as   
if what you master masters you.   
  
You have never been willing to accept help in finding your way   
out.   
  
You have never been willing to accept how easily you can lose   
your way, or that you are lost when you do.   
  
The path of blood calls you, and you think it is your destiny.   
  
As the path away from me, from love, is your destiny.   
  
As a man running, running down the path away from me, for fear   
of me running the other way, is my destiny.   
  
***   
  
The wind and the rain speak to me with the voice of the Goddess,   
and she speaks of life and death.   
  
She speaks of six thousand dead in China, where mutant infants   
have been systematically abandoned, tortured, or brainwashed by   
the government.   
  
She speaks of the righteous rage that would protect life instead   
consuming it in magnetic fire.   
  
She speaks of the life within me, the life we have created on   
the path we walked together.   
  
I see our future shattered on the pathway ahead. I see the   
vision of the running man that has haunted me for years, since   
the Maker made his path away from mine. I see your vision of the   
running woman, and the fear that drives you to run first. I see   
the path of blood pulling on you, tugging you in, and perhaps no   
one will pull you free this time. Perhaps you will run away from   
life and love, toward blood and death, so deep that there can be   
no redemption.   
  
And the new life we have made will be tainted forever by the   
loss of a father, the loss of a father's soul.   
  
***   
  
The wind and the rain have told me the news, but they cannot   
tell me the future. The past tells me the future, and I reject   
it. I reject it.   
  
I will not let the past rule me, as you have for years let the   
past rule you.   
  
I come to the crossroads and stand before you, and I offer you a   
choice, my love, father of my child.   
  
Come free. Pull yourself from the path of blood and walk again   
with me. Let me help you, let me be your anchor, as I once   
promised and failed you. I will not fail you again, for we will   
be bound together, you and me, and I will not let you lose your   
way.   
  
Walk with me, and help me to carry our child along the path, as   
I will help you to stay within the light.   
  
Or turn from me, in fear, and flee deeper down the path of   
blood, and condemn yourself again to life without love, life   
serving death.   
  
You stand at the crossroads, and the past is pushing you, the   
blood is calling you. But you can still turn away. If you are   
strong enough to master the pull, to fight the past, you can   
turn away. If you are strong enough to be a man, and not merely   
a toy of circumstances, you can turn away.   
  
I bring you the news of the life within me, to call you, to   
remind you that you are a man with responsibilities, and not a   
Messiah of blood and death. You have done a terrible thing, but   
I have seen the babies' mutilated bodies and I know what enraged   
you, and I can still forgive. You can still choose.   
  
Will you walk with me, my love? Will you turn from the path of   
blood?   
  
Or will you leave me?   
  
  



End file.
